“Stop it, ye deevil!” cried the captain of the guard. “How dare you set up such a squawking in the presence of the king?” and as the piper paid not the slightest attention to him, he struck the mouth-piece from the lips of the performer. This, however, did not cause a cessation of the music, for the bag under the piper’s elbow was filled with wind and the fingers of the musician bravely kept up the strain on the reed chanter with its nine holes, and thus he played until his chief came to a stand before the king. The king gazed with undisguised admiration upon the foremost Highlander, and said quietly to the captain of the guard,—
“Unbind him!”
On finding his arms released, the mountaineer stretched them out once or twice, then folded them across his breast, making no motion however to remove his plumed bonnet, although every one else in the room except himself and his men were uncovered.
“You have come in from the country,” began the king, a suspicion of a smile hovering about his lips, “to enjoy the metropolitan delights of Stirling. How are you satisfied with your reception?”
The big Highlandman made no reply, but frowned heavily, and bestowed a savage glance on several of the courtiers, among whom a light ripple of laughter had run after the king put his question.
“These savages,” suggested Sir Donald, “do not understand anything but the Gaelic. Is it your majesty’s pleasure that the interpreter be called?”
“Yes, bring him in.”
When the interpreter arrived, the king said,—
“Ask this man if his action is the forefront of a Highland invasion of the Lowlands, or merely a little private attempt on his own part to take the castle by assault?”
The interpreter put the question in Gaelic, and was answered with gruff brevity by the marauder. The interpreter, bowing low to the king, said smoothly,—